


Unreal

by Little_Plebe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Girls' Night, Grief/Mourning, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sam and Rhodes are funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Plebe/pseuds/Little_Plebe
Summary: “Did you just say unreal?”She continued staring at him, lost for words. “Uh. I meant the view is unreal. Kinda like a work of art or… something.”“But you were looking at me.”“Yeah,” croaked Darcy, flushing with embarrassment. Busted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The trouble is, you think you have time.

Darcy found Steve sitting on the roof of the compound, his head slightly tipped back as he gazed at the night sky. The new Avengers compound was situated in an isolated area, far from the hustle and bustle of the city. At night, it got so silent that Darcy sometimes felt like she was in space. The roof was her haven. No one ever came up there at night and it afforded her some privacy whenever she couldn’t sleep or when she wanted to be alone. The height offered a stunning view of the landscape. Even now, from her angle at the door of the roof, it was a beautiful view. Miles and miles of greenery bathed in the light of the full moon and a lone figure sitting in the middle, lost in the beauty of it. The lack of stars normally didn’t bother Darcy but, in that moment, she sure wished there was something to look at in the sky other than the moon.

She walked up to the bulky form of Steve Rogers and made her presence known. “You’re in my spot.”

His eyes shifted their focus and settled on her. “Hi, Darcy.”

“Can’t sleep?” she asked cautiously, taking a seat beside him.

He hummed absently, going back to looking at the sky. Darcy wondered if she should leave him to it. He obviously didn’t want company. But he didn’t own the roof, did he? She could sit there as long as she wanted. It was, after all, her spot. She had marked it the day after she had arrived at the compound.

They sat there in companionable silence, Darcy occasionally sneaking glances at the man sitting beside her. Objectively, she had always noticed how attractive Steve was but right then, he looked inexplicably surreal. With his neat blonde hair and plush lips and face lit up by the silvery glow of the moon, he looked like the subject of a painting. Unreal.

A beat passed, and then he turned to look at her. “Did you just say unreal?”

She continued staring at him, lost for words. Her brain to mouth filter was apparently taking a break because, without meaning to, she had spoken out loud.

“Uh,” she said intelligently. “I meant the view is unreal. Kinda like a work of art or… something.”

She bit her lip and looked away, unsure about her reply. She had definitely messed up, but she didn’t know how until Steve spoke.

“But you were looking at me.”

“Yeah,” croaked Darcy, flushing with embarrassment. There was no point in lying. He had caught her staring. It would be silly to deny it.

“I see,” he murmured. He wasn’t looking at her anymore but when she chanced a peek at him, he had a tiny smile on his face. “You think I’m a work of art.”

It wasn’t a question. He said it in a way that told her he was pondering over it, turning it over in his head, probably trying to figure out why a random lab assistant was comparing him to a piece of art. _Not just any piece of art_ , Darcy corrected herself, _the very best one that exists._

“I should go,” she said, making to get up.

His fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her. Darcy looked at him in surprise.

“You don’t have to go.”

She supposed it was his way of asking her to stay, so she stayed. He still refused to talk, but since he didn’t want her to leave, maybe he was amenable to a conversation if she initiated it. Taking a deep breath, she asked him a simple question.

“What are you thinking about?”

He gave a simple answer. “Wanda.”

“Oh.” She felt strangely disappointed but didn’t dwell on it, unwilling to give it much thought.

She didn’t know if it was her tone or if he was just being polite, but he felt the need to elaborate. “She isn’t dealing well with her brother’s death.” He sighed and closed his eyes as if he was the one grieving, not Wanda. Well, he probably was. Darcy had heard rumors about his guilt complex. Not the best insecurity for someone in charge of saving the world but who was she to judge?

“Her training suffers,” he continued. “I don’t know what to do.”

Darcy watched him, feeling sorry. She didn’t have a solution for him neither did he expect her to have one. Wanda wasn’t particularly close to anyone except Vision, and Darcy barely knew her. Nothing she could say would ever help the young witch figure out how to deal with her brother’s death. Wanda alone was responsible for her grief and for getting over it.

“What are _you_ thinking about?” Steve asked her.

“Grief,” replied Darcy quietly. “I know how dangerous it can be, especially if you blame yourself for something.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he nodded and turned away, the moon ensnaring his gaze again. Darcy followed his example, letting herself get lost in the night, clearing her mind of any unnecessary thoughts. She focused on the moment. She was sitting with Steve Rogers. Two months in the facility and this was the first time they had shared a conversation longer than thirty seconds.

It had to mean something.

“Maybe you should talk to Wanda. She needs a friend.”

 

When Steve said Wanda needed a friend, Darcy had been pretty sure he was talking about a therapist or an agony aunt. She was neither of the two. In fact, she wasn’t very good at consolations or offering solutions to emotional problems. Plus, Wanda was five years younger than Darcy, just out of her teenage, and she had powers. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to connect with Darcy, would she? They were both so different.

They ran into each other in the Avengers kitchen two days later. Darcy stopped in her tracks to smile at Wanda. “Hi.”

Wanda nodded, grabbed a piece of pizza from the fridge and left without a word.

The next time they met, Darcy gathered the courage to ask, “Wanna have lunch together?”

Wanda looked taken aback and pursed her lips as if she disliked the idea. “What are we having?” she asked reluctantly.

Darcy smiled. It was a small step but it would have to do for now.

“Three cheese lasagna with cranberry juice.”

 

It turned out, Wanda liked Darcy’s company. She was hesitant at first, not used to people other than her brother paying attention to her and being nice to her. Steve was too careful with her, Natasha was never around, Vision was still learning to exist and emote, and Sam and Rhodes didn’t know her that well. Darcy was different. She made an effort. She could tell it confused Wanda, made her suspicious, but as the days turned into weeks and Darcy was still hanging around, Wanda began to trust her. She looked forward to their time together. Sometimes, she would even come down to the labs to sit with Darcy while she worked with Jane and Erik.

They didn’t talk much. Darcy’s favorite way to pass the time was to watch movies. From _The Shawshank Redemption_ to _The Breakfast Club_ to _Legally Blonde_ , she made Wanda watch everything. The younger woman didn’t seem to mind. She enjoyed movies just as much as Darcy did; she was just very good at hiding the fangirl within her.

Steve found them one night in Wanda’s room, drawn there by the sound of television. The door was open and he peeked inside, feeling his heart constrict at the sight before him. Vision sat on one side of the bed, his arm around Wanda as she leaned into him, fast asleep. To the other side of Wanda was Darcy. She, too, was sleeping, head on Wanda’s shoulder and fingers curled around Wanda’s arm in a way that could only be described as possessive. Vision’s eyes were closed but Steve caught the movement of his thumb as he rubbed small circles on Wanda’s wrist.

It surprised Steve how much he wanted to go in and join them. He craved comfort and friendly touches as much as the next person. But he wasn’t one to ask for anything. He was Captain America after all; it was imperative that he maintain his persona. His eyes lingered on Darcy a little longer than it was appropriate, desire and longing clawing at his insides. Not wanting to be caught looking in on what was likely a private moment, Steve avoided the risk of switching off the television and silently walked away to his own room.

 

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Darcy blinked to find herself staring intently at the closed book in her lap. Steve Rogers sat down beside her, sweeping his eyes over the roof before settling his gaze on her. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“You were looking for me?”

He nodded. “Well, I haven’t seen you around for a while…”

Darcy grinned at him. “We had breakfast together two days ago.”

“Yes, but Wanda was there.”

“So, you wanted to be alone with me?”

“There’s an idea.”

She shot him a look. He was flirting with her. She didn’t know if it was just a means of fun for him or if he meant it, but either way, butterflies erupted in her stomach and her lips twitched up in a smile. He shifted closer to her until their shoulders were touching and looked at the book in her lap.

“Spicy tales of love and lust,” he read the words on the cover, voice heavy with barely restrained mirth.

Darcy flushed and slapped a hand over the book, hiding it from his view. “Don’t judge me,” she said. “It’s for Jane. She gets lonely without Thor.”

Steve nodded in understanding but his eyes glinted with mischief. “And you’re what, reading it first to make sure it’s safe for her?”

Darcy laughed. “Shut up.”

She didn’t want to admit it but it had been a while since she had done anything spicy. A woman has needs and if they’re not fulfilled by a real man, a fictional man (or men) would have to do. So, sue her if she wanted to read the book first before giving it to Jane. She deserved some spice once in a while, even if it was just words on a page.

She felt Steve’s gaze on her and looked at him, instantly on the defensive. “What?”

“You’re unreal, too, you know,” he said softly.

“I… what—” Her heart skipped several beats and her fingers flexed.

He shook his head. “Not just _that_.” He waved a hand over her body as if she was supposed to understand what that meant. “You’re gorgeous on the outside but… what you’re doing for Wanda.”

Darcy stopped him before he could go any further. “I’m not doing anything,” she said firmly. “I may have started out wanting to help her but Wanda has become my friend. Whatever you think I’m doing, I’m doing because I want to and because—” She paused, avoiding his eyes. Her thumb stroked the face of the woman on her book cover and she spoke wistfully, “If you haven’t noticed, I need a friend, too. Jane is a wonderful person but she’s too busy to be an equally good friend, you know.”

She felt guilty admitting it. Jane _was_ a good friend but she was always so distracted by science. They never had time to talk, to have a girls' night, to watch movies or go out and do girl stuff. Darcy missed all that. Not for the first time, she terribly missed her friends from home. They were never truly her friends but they had always been there when Darcy wanted to have a good time.

“I’ve been told I make good friend,” Steve said, breaking into her morbid thoughts. He clearly meant to lighten her mood and he succeeded because a smile graced her features in seconds.

“Is that so?” asked Darcy, amused.

“Try me some time.”

“I’ll think about it.” Saying that, she stood up and bade him goodnight. The smile stayed on her face long after she closed the door to her room, leaning her back against the wood and laying a hand over her racing heart.

 

“Tell me about your family,” Darcy asked Wanda one day. “What were they like?”

They were nestled comfortably in the common area, playing scrabble, and Darcy was winning by a hair. Surprising, too, because Wanda was Sokovian and still working on expanding her English vocabulary. Darcy told her she was smarter than she looked and Wanda smirked complacently. It was nice to see her happy. But, apparently, asking about her family had been the wrong move, because she froze and her hand began to tremble, the letter tile falling from her fingers.

Without a word, she pushed herself to her feet and walked away, leaving a dismayed Darcy in her wake. Before she could ponder over what had just happened and how to fix it, a husky female voice quipped, “Smooth.”

Natasha Romanoff stepped around the corner, short red hair loose over her shoulders and a slight mocking smile on her lips. Darcy had only seen her in passing once before she had left on her mission to track the Hulk. She had been fair and rosy back then. Now, months later, the Black Widow was tanned and visibly thinner.

She regarded Darcy with a calculating look that made her feel all kinds of uncomfortable. “Steve set you up to this?”

Darcy stood up and faced the female Avenger stiffly. “You have no right to make assumptions about anything,” she said, not rudely. “You don’t know me.”

“And who are you?” Natasha asked, mocking smile still in place.

Darcy stared at her, dozens of witty and equally sarcastic remarks popping up in her head, but Wanda’s hurt face flashed before her eyes and Darcy suddenly remembered who she really was – an unpaid intern who was lost somewhere in the crazy world of Gods, scientists and superheroes. A person, who worked in the labs, ate in the Avengers kitchen but preferred listening to songs on her iPod rather than interacting with people. She was sure 99% of the people who lived in the facility didn’t even know her name.

Her eyes stung when she replied, “I’m a nobody.”

Her feet carried her out. She ran into Steve on the way. He smiled when he saw her but Darcy merely shook her head and fled.

 

He found her in the kitchen that night, vigorously punching a pound of dough. Feet apart and body slightly bent at the waist, she looked funny and totally adorable in her stance. Her silky waves bounced around her as she worked on the dough. Any other time, Steve would have laughed at the sight but he knew she was upset and he didn’t want to turn her off any more than she already was. She barely spared him a glance when he went to stand beside her.

“Go away.”

“If you’ll just let me talk…” tried Steve.

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“Darcy.”

She continued pounding on the dough. “Go away, Steve.”

Exasperated, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and tugged until she turned to face him. She was breathing through her lips and wouldn’t look him in the eye. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked. Instead, he grabbed a napkin from the pile and began to clean the bits of dough from her knuckles. She let him.

“I’m sorry about Natasha,” he said, carefully working on her hands. “She’s had a rough time out there looking for Bruce and she can be a bit…”

“Mean?” Darcy filled in bitterly.

Steve smiled at her. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Guess she told you what happened.”

He nodded. “Nat looks tough but, if you let her, she can be a good friend to you.”

“I don’t need a friend,” Darcy said stubbornly.

He saw right through her. “I’ve heard otherwise.” Her knuckles were clean now, albeit a bit rough from all the violent punching, and he tossed the napkin aside, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on her hands. She had soft skin. He hated to let go.

“Do you want to talk about Wanda?”

Darcy shook her head. “I can deal with it.”

Steve stepped closer until she was forced to look at him. She saw concern in his blue eyes and melted a little. “I know you can deal with it,” he said. “But do you want to talk about it?”

She did. She really did. “No.”

“Okay.”

The beaten up dough called her name, asking silently to be put away, but Steve hadn’t moved away from her and Darcy felt rooted to the spot under his intense gaze. All thoughts of Wanda and the Black Widow flew from her mind when he softly uttered, “You’re not a nobody.”

Darcy snorted. “Thanks, but—”

“You’re not,” he insisted. “You matter. And I’m sure a lot of people will agree with me on this.”

“Sure, if you say so.”

“Darcy,” he murmured seriously. “You matter.”

His tone lowered considerably and the way he said it gave her a pause. She regarded him curiously, trying to decide what he meant by that. Was he referring to the events she had been a part of and assisted in since Thor landed on Earth? Or did he mean she mattered to him, Steve? It was probably the former. Being in the radar of Jane Foster, Erik Selvig and Thor was enough to make her a somebody despite being their sidekick and a measly lab assistant. Also, there was no denying that she _had_ helped save the world once. She gulped and nodded mutely at Steve.

“Good,” he said, blue eyes flickering over her face longingly.

He looked to be debating about something while Darcy’s mind went blissfully blank, registering nothing except his proximity. Her heart literally jumped in her throat when he raised a hand to cup her neck, fingers easily sinking into her hair. Slowly, very slowly, he bent his head and touched his lips to her cheek. It was a light brush of lips, a barely there thing, that turned into something more the moment Darcy shivered and leaned into him. The tips of his fingers dug gently into her skull as he pressed another kiss to the same spot, tasting her skin with his lips.

The moment was mind-numbingly charged and Darcy wanted it to go on forever. She didn’t know when her eyes fell shut or when her hands were no longer hanging by her side, but a shaky breath escaped her and all the tension seemingly leaked out of her body at his touch.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Darcy jumped, eyes flying open. She saw the Black Widow over Steve’s shoulder, regarding the scene before her with raised eyebrows. Steve drew away from her and Darcy snatched her traitorous hands from his waist. He looked to be unaffected at being caught in a compromising position by a colleague but Darcy could see the color on his cheeks. He calmly greeted Natasha, who snorted and went over to rummage in the refrigerator.

“Don’t you have something to say to Darcy?”

At Steve’s pointed question, the redhead shut the fridge, a carrot in hand, and studied Darcy from head to toe.

“Nice shorts,” she said before strutting out of the kitchen.

Darcy looked down and remembered that she was wearing her Hulk shorts and matching Hulk slippers.

 

A week later, F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed Darcy that Ms. Maximoff had granted her access to her file. Darcy waited 24 hours to open it, an entire day of restless fidgeting and a night of tossing and turning before she gathered the courage to request F.R.I.D.A.Y. to download the file on her computer.

What she found in there wasn’t pretty.

 

Wanda visited her room the next night, shy and awkward, afraid of what Darcy might say. Darcy merely patted the spot on the bed beside her, silently asking her to sit. Wanda had nothing to be afraid of. She had been through so much worse than Darcy could ever have imagined, losing her parents at such a young age, being experimented on by HYDRA, watching Sokovia fall, losing her brother. It was too much and Darcy understood why the witch was having a hard time dealing with everything. She wasn’t unhappy, no, but Darcy realized that she hadn’t let go of her past because she hadn’t let herself grieve properly.

She opened her mouth to say something when Natasha walked in, carrying two bowls of popcorn, a bag of chips and coke slung over her arm.

“Um,” Darcy said, looking from one woman to another in surprise. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t invite her,” supplied Wanda immediately, giving her a hopeful smile that made Darcy forget about the awfully lonely past week they had spent not speaking with each other.

Natasha seemed unfazed by Wanda’s betrayal. She followed Wanda to Darcy’s bed and carefully laid down her load at the brunette’s feet. “I thought we should have a girls’ night.”

“Why?” demanded Darcy. “Don’t you have better people to hang out with?”

“I have _other_ people,” corrected Natasha. “Whether they’re better than you or not is yet to be determined.”

It was unclear whether it was an insult or compliment, or if Natasha was merely letting her know that she was reserving her judgment until after she got to know Darcy a bit better. It was probably the latter because Wanda rolled her eyes and said, “Stop being so bigheaded.”

Natasha smirked and plopped down on the sheets across from the two women. “What do we do on girls’ nights?”

Still feeling a bit stunned by the turn of events, Darcy recited a list of things that she and Wanda normally did, like watch movies, play cards, play scrabble, look at pictures of hot guys on the internet and—

“But the two of you already have hot guys,” cut in Natasha. “Why would you want to look at pictures of other men?”

Wanda shot Darcy a blank look. “We have hot guys?”

“You have Vision,” Darcy pointed out.

The witch laughed nervously. “Vis? No, Vis is just… he’s just my… he…” She paused, obviously flustered, and held up a finger, asking them to wait as she pondered over the best way to describe her relationship with Vision.

After almost two minutes of heavy silence and glazed eyes, Wanda sighed and dropped her face in her hands. “Yeah, okay. Vis is hot.”

Natasha popped open a can of coke and said, “Happy realization.”

Darcy glared at her. She placed a hand on Wanda’s knee and said, “It’s okay if you like him. The Mind Stone connects you to him, so you have to know that he cares about you, too.”

Wanda looked up. “So you _did_ read my file.”

“You wanted me to.”

“Yes.” She was about to say more when, suddenly, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Who’s _your_ hot guy?”

Darcy flushed and lowered her eyes, causing Natasha to snigger. “Wanda doesn’t know?”

“What don’t I know?”

“Steve,” the redhead supplied. “He’s stupid for Darcy.”

Wanda grinned and scooted closer to her friend. “Really?”

“Yep,” replied Natasha before Darcy could protest. “He kisses her when no one’s looking.”

“He kisses you?” said Wanda excitedly.

“You saw us _one_ time!” huffed Darcy.

“Once is enough for me to know what’s going on.” Natasha looked at Wanda and said conspiratorially, “They were in the kitchen.”

Wanda gasped comically. “In the kitchen!”

Darcy sighed and shook her head at their antics. “I’m going to need something much stronger than diet coke if we’re going to do this,” she grumbled, rising to open her in-room mini refrigerator. She plucked out a bottle of red wine from inside and took a big gulp.

“I’ll have some of that.”

She handed the bottle to Natasha. “I have another, but let’s not guzzle it down like water.”

Both Avengers nodded. “So,” began Wanda. “What about your guy, Nat? Did you find out where he’s hiding?”

Darcy didn’t think the redhead would deign them with an answer in a newcomer’s presence but Natasha launched into a classic tale of mystery, deceit and action that sounded way more exaggerated than it was. It came as no surprise that she had to threaten people to find out Dr. Banner’s location, but the idea of Natasha running into creepy tribals, having to fight out of an entire cannibal village, jumping over buildings trying to run from _a shadow_ was a bit hard to digest. Even Wanda was having a hard time believing it.

“How much of that is true?” Darcy asked Natasha.

“The creepy tribals.”

“Did you really jump from buildings?” Wanda wanted to know.

“Yes. I ran into an old acquaintance from the Red Room.” She paused, looking more human in that moment than Darcy thought was possible. “It was ugly.”

She wanted to ask about the Red Room but it was obviously something very close to Natasha’s heart, something that was a part of her but still bothered her to recall, so she wisely kept her mouth shut. The redhead continued making up more extravagant stories of her journey and soon, Darcy found herself laughing along with Wanda, clutching her aching side as Natasha told them about an alien frog (left behind during the Chitauri invasion) who wanted to kiss her and become a prince.

She was beginning to rip off ideas from movies and cartoons and it was funnier because she recited it all with a straight face. Darcy couldn’t help but think that she had misjudged Natasha. She looked serious and scary but was far from it.

“So, after all this, when I finally reached Pohnpei, Bruce wasn’t there. The locals told me the shy doctor left a week ago.”

“Sorry, Natasha.”

The redhead looked at Darcy. “Don’t be. Bruce is… he’s just playing hard to get. He knows I’m looking for him, so he keeps moving around. But he always leaves me clues. In Fiji, he left me a packet of herbal tea. In Pohnpei, I found a pearl that was painted green.” She thought about it, then finished with, “I’m sure there was a denture in there somewhere. Don’t remember which island.”

“A denture?” asked Wanda, bemused.

“Scientists are weird.”

Darcy couldn’t argue with that, so she nodded as if it made perfect sense. She didn’t want to point out that maybe Dr. Banner wasn’t leaving her clues, that maybe he was telling her that he was fine and she should stop looking for him but Natasha just wasn’t getting the hint. Darcy refrained from saying that out loud because she was starting to feel a little tipsy from all the wine and she didn’t want to blurt something out that she had no right to comment on in the first place.

They never got around to watching a movie or playing a game. The flow of their conversation was unexpectedly smooth and Darcy was becoming less and less surprised by it. From the topic of hot guys, they had moved on to a discussion about saving the world and the mistakes the Avengers made while saving the world, which then turned into a talk about regrets and Darcy suddenly found herself talking about an incident that she had never thought she would ever repeat to anyone, let alone Wanda and Natasha, one of whom she barely even knew.

“I had a friend once,” she found herself saying, fingering the empty bottle of wine in her hand. She noticed Natasha cradling a similar empty bottle and realized that they had downed both bottles with the chips. “Her name was Teresa but everyone called her Terry.”

Darcy remembered seeing her for the first time. Big brown eyes partially covered by dark hair framing her face, sickeningly skinny and enveloped in a sweater so ugly that Darcy had giggled at her along with the rest of the girls in class. Mr. Hoffman had introduced her as a transfer student and ordered Darcy, of all people, to be her friend and show her around. She had huffed and pouted to no avail. The boys pitied her and the girls giggled and threw her looks of sympathy.

“I was fifteen when I met her. She was a slight little thing, completely my opposite yet alike in so many ways. I was quiet but I liked to socialize and do girly things. Terry was aloof and uninterested. I was smart, Terry barely paid attention to what was taught in class. I took her to the best places in town but she preferred sitting on the ledge of the Toll Bridge, looking down at the dark waters below. She was sad. _So sad_ , and I couldn’t understand her.”

“How did you become friends?” Wanda asked.

Darcy blinked and found both women looking at her in rapt attention. Natasha lay on her stomach, chin propped up by a fist and Wanda probably didn’t know she was pulling a wide-eyed expression of a Barbie doll. Darcy didn’t think her story was that interesting. She had just started. So, maybe it was the way in which she was telling it, the way her eyes glazed over as Terry’s face flashed in her mind, the way she spoke as if hinting at a certain doom.

She couldn’t help it. This had happened with her. It had been her life.

“We didn’t, not in the usual sense of the word,” she responded to Wanda’s question. “We didn’t have girls’ nights or go to movies or skirt shopping. I couldn’t stand her at first. But I was responsible for showing her around the first day and as I was walking her back to her house, her parents saw me and invited me in. They were just so nice and so happy that Terry had made a friend so quickly that I didn’t want to disappoint them and disappear the very next day. So I hung around, visited her place every once in a while to show my face to her folks. In school, she sat beside me but we never talked.

“Then one day, I heard her mouthing the lyrics to a song I liked. It’s a terribly depressing song but it used to be one of my favorites. It was the first time that Terry and I held a proper conversation. Because of a song. I wound up asking her why she was so sad all the time and she merely whispered, ‘I don’t know, Darcy, I don’t know.’ At that time, I didn’t know what to say or do but something happened that day… I felt a spark, and all of a sudden, I started being nice to her, started drawing her in conversations, sought her out when she wasn’t around. I spent over a year trying to make her happy and to make her appreciate life like normal people. I thought… I thought it would work, that I would make her better, when people more intelligent than me—doctors, experts—couldn’t.”

Darcy laughed. If it was hollow and thick with emotion, she didn’t care. “I was sixteen, what did I know?” A hand snuck up to cover one of hers. It was Wanda’s, the corners of her eyes were glistening and Darcy looked away, fighting the rising lump in her throat. “Terry and I spent most of our time on the Toll Bridge because she liked looking at the water. She was always leaning over the railing, asking me if I knew how to swim, if I wanted to jump in with her and I asked her why she wanted me to jump with her, she could do it herself. She got all quiet and muttered she didn’t want to do it alone, that she wanted company. And I would laugh and shake my head. Until, one day, I agreed.”

“You agreed to jump in the lake?” Natasha asked, sitting up and tossing the wine bottle aside. “Why?”

Darcy gulped. “I… I thought it would make her happy,” she stammered. “I hated seeing her sad. She had become important to me. So we climbed on the ledge and jumped together. I swam out… she didn’t.”

Wanda covered her mouth. “Oh my God…”

“She didn’t know how to swim, did she?” asked Natasha quietly.

Darcy shook her head. “Guess she conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“What happened then?”

“When she didn’t follow me out, I dived back in to look for her but she had sunk in deeper and I couldn’t find her. It was a freezing night. I was cold and scared and crying out Terry’s name, crying for help but nobody heard me. They found me unconscious on the banks the next morning. My parents, Terry’s parents, the police, some townsfolk, they were all there. I told them what happened and they immediately sent in divers. It was stupid of me to hope that Terry would still be alive but I did, I so wanted her to be alive. She was blue and bloated when they pulled her out, and I… I couldn’t—” Her voice hitched and her eyes stung and Darcy wildly gulped at air. She had promised herself she wouldn’t break down. “I couldn’t look her parents in the eyes. I blamed myself for her death.”

“How were you to know she couldn’t swim?” Wanda said gently. “It was her idea to jump.”

Darcy nodded. “I know. And it took me years to understand that, to get over my guilt. I know now that if I had kept refusing, she would have jumped anyway and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. But it was difficult, very difficult to let go of that fragment of my past and move on. I must have attended hundreds of therapy sessions and I still see her bloated body whenever I close my eyes, as clear as day.” She fell silent and glanced at a distressed Wanda, her gut twisting painfully. Had she known it would merely take some wine and an unexpected heart-to-heart for her to understand what she had to do, Darcy would have done it weeks ago.

“Sometimes,” she continued heavily. “Sometimes things are just not in our hands, Wanda.”

Green eyes snapped to hers in shock. “What?”

Darcy took a deep breath. This was the moment. She needed to say it, for her sake and for Wanda’s. “I’m saying we can’t go blaming ourselves for—”

“No,” said Wanda, shaking her head resolutely. “Don’t.”

“Guilt is dangerous. It can eat you up from the inside.”

“Stop.”

“I would know. It took me years but I don’t want the same to happen with you.”

“I said stop!”

“The trouble is, you think you have time. But you don’t. Your brother—”

“Don’t you dare!” Wanda screamed and pushed away from Darcy. Natasha sat up straight, eyes alert. Wrapping her fingers around witch’s wrist, Darcy kept her from running away. She tried to fight, break out of Darcy’s grip but the fact that she didn’t use her magic to zap her friend told them that, on a subconscious level, Wanda knew that she needed to hear this. It was time somebody told her what she should have been told months ago.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda.”

“Darcy, please. Don’t.” The fight in her had ebbed away and she looked on the verge of tears, begging her to stop, to let go.

But Darcy wasn’t done. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated quietly, looking her friend in the eye. “ _It’s not your fault_.”

“Please.”

“Do you hear me? It’s not—”

Wanda heaved and slumped forward, throwing her arms around Darcy and breaking down completely. She let out a loud, utterly anguished wail and practically crawled into Darcy’s lap in an attempt to get closer, her short black nails scratching Darcy’s back as she held on tight. Natasha sat uncomfortably beside them, watching silently as the young witch sobbed into the intern’s shoulder. It was heartbreaking and the redhead didn’t think she was allowed to witness this moment. She decided to leave them both alone.

Darcy stopped her by taking her hand and tugging on it. “Stay,” she mouthed.

“But I…” Her protest was cut off.

“Stay.”

Natasha nodded and hesitantly shifted closer before draping an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. The young witch sobbed even harder, and as the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes stretched into an hour, Natasha found herself letting go as well. Her stiff pose sagged and her eyes drooped. She could see why Steve and Wanda were smitten with the curvy brunette. So maybe no one would judge her if she rested a cheek on Darcy’s unoccupied shoulder. Natasha was tired. Surely, she deserved a time-out and some comfort, too.

The three women sat in that position for goodness knows how long. Eventually, Wanda stopped crying and fell asleep on Darcy. Natasha had already nodded off, snoring prettily on her other side. The level of trust both Avengers had shown in her that day, it was something Darcy would never understand nor forget. From what she had heard, it must have been particularly difficult for the Black Widow to open up like that and sleep with her back to a woman she barely knew.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe Darcy was a somebody after all.

 

The call to assemble roused them early the next morning and before Darcy could even shout out a groggy ‘Be careful’, both women were gone from her bed, leaving only warmth and a feeling of emptiness within her. Missions were usually two or three days long but when the Avengers didn’t return on the fourth day or even the fifth day, Darcy got worried. She restlessly paced the lab, got on Erik’s nerves, forgot to feed Jane and blew up the generator when she accidentally spilled coffee over it.

“You’re distracted,” said Jane, frowning in concern. “I don’t like it. Take a break or something.”

Darcy shook her head vigorously. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just… I’ll be good.”

But Erik was having none of it. “Go to your room,” he told her in his best dad voice.

Darcy pouted but obeyed, dragging her feet to her little room at the other end of the compound and falling face first into her bed. She skipped meals and lazed around for hours, trying not to think about what the Avengers might be going through out there. When she had arrived at the facility months ago, a stranger to everyone, she honestly hadn’t cared much for the assemble order. But she had grown to know these people. Wanda had become her closest friend at the facility. Vision was great company and Darcy was always itching to give him a hug. Natasha was now on her list, too. And then there was Steve…

A happy sigh escaped her as Steve’s face flashed in her mind. Her eyes closed and she cuddled her pillow tightly to her body. The first thing she would do after he returned was ask him out. He had begun to dominate her thoughts a lot lately and she had so many fantasies about him that it wasn’t even funny.

“Darcy.”

She was even hearing his voice. This was a new low for her. So desperate.

“Darcy!” That was Wanda’s voice. Weird.

She sat up suddenly, eyes flying open, and saw the Avengers standing at her door.

 _All of them_.

Sam Wilson and Colonel Rhodes looked comically lost, like they had blindly followed their team members and ended up at Darcy’s door, but everyone else was staring expectantly at her. Darcy scrambled to get out of bed and practically flew into Wanda’s waiting arms.

“You’re okay,” she croaked. “You’re not hurt.”

Wanda laughed. “Of course not. We’re all okay.”

Darcy stepped away to hug Vision. He looked unusually tall. She looked at his feet. “Are you floating again?”

He blinked and touched down. “Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, squeezing her briefly before letting go. “I forget.”

Natasha watched her with big hopeful eyes but didn’t seem inclined to do anything else. “Darcy,” she greeted awkwardly. There was dried blood on her forehead but she looked otherwise uninjured.

“You’re hurt,” Darcy said, stepping closer to her.

She held her ground. “I’m fine.”

“I see blood.”

“It’s not mine.”

“That can’t be healthy.”

It earned her a chuckle and Darcy rolled her eyes, wrapping herself around Natasha like a leech. If she thought Darcy had forgotten about the girls’ night, about the cuddling and the snoring, she had another thing coming. They had shared a moment and it was important and it wasn’t something that any of them would forget easily.

“This is unexpected,” Sam Wilson piped up from the back.

“Definitely not a debriefing session,” said Colonel Rhodes.

“Why did we follow them again?”

“Their gait was determined, their faces set and their eyes held hope.”

“Also, Nat and Vision followed wordlessly. Rhodes, we’re the only ones misled into thinking we’re going to a debriefing session.”

Darcy giggled at the conversation as she pulled away from a pleased Natasha. But before she could introduce herself to both men, the redhead quipped, “Stand down, boys. If anyone’s going to be debriefed tonight, it’s Steve.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped in horror and her gaze snapped to Steve, who she had carefully avoided looking at since she saw him at her door, uniformed and as handsome as ever. She hadn’t wanted to be distracted lest she jump into his arms and forget about the others. And now Natasha had gone and embarrassed them in front of everyone.

Steve was glaring at her while Wanda laughed openly and Sam cottoned on to the joke. Natasha merely smirked and looked unapologetic.

“That’s it. Everyone out,” ordered Steve. “Out. Get out.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming?” called Sam, eyes twinkling.

“Guess it’s debriefing time,” Rhodes deadpanned.

Steve shut the door in their faces and turned back to Darcy, his expression softening immediately. “Sorry about that.”

“Uh… it’s okay, I guess,” mumbled Darcy, trying not to ogle him. “Do you need… uh… are you hurt?” He shook his head. Darcy bit her lip. “Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said simply, before adding, “So did Wanda. And maybe Natasha, too, but she would never admit it.”

Her heart swelled several sizes at his words and Darcy beamed. “I’m so glad you’re all back.”

“Is that right?” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “Tell me what you did to them.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“They’re all right.” He was both amazed and confused as he said it. “Especially Wanda. She was amazing on this mission. Completely focused and she couldn’t wait to come home to you.” Knowing that Wanda was really all right, it kind of made Darcy want to laugh and cry at the same time. Steve had no idea how happy his words were making her. “Thank you, Darcy, for whatever it is that you did.”

Her first instinct was to nod and smile like she would have done weeks ago when they didn’t know each other that well. But in a bold move that she was later proud of, Darcy stood on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, looking him challengingly in the eyes.

“Some would argue that Captain America, of all people, would know how to thank a woman properly.”

A beat passed, in which Steve stared at her in utter surprise, and then he was kissing her, gloved hands slipping into her hair and down her back. Darcy sighed and melted into him. He smelled of blood and smoke and something distinctly Steve that she had come to recognize after that time when Natasha had caught them in the kitchen. She felt his hands sliding down to her hips, squeezing gently, and a second later he was hauling her up against him, pressing her body to his. Darcy gasped and broke the kiss.

“That… that is,” she panted against his lips.

“Unreal?” he murmured, teasing the corner of her mouth.

Darcy laughed breathlessly and captured his lips again. “Not anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> The last part of the girls' night episode was inspired by that beautiful scene between Matt Damon and Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting. If you haven't seen this movie, I encourage you to see it. It's absolutely lovely!
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://littleplebe.tumblr.com/) account now. Drop by if you wish. I'm planning to post some of my Steve/Darcy manips there. I'd love to hear what you guys think of them.


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